The Pretender
by Hawtsee
Summary: Gale isn't even sure he wants to be a prince. (Based on the Princess Diaries 2)
1. Chapter 1

Happy new year folks. Here's a fic based on a prompt I received on tumblr.

* * *

 **The Pretender.**

Madge was eleven years old the first time she had played for the queen. She had been so nervous that minutes before going on stage she had thrown up all over her pretty new dress. Her mother had scrubbed her clean with toilet paper and Madge had performed in a smelly, damp dress.

At twenty-two, Madge has a much better handle on her stage-fright, but there was something about being back in the Garden Palace, performing in front of Queen Consilla and all the leading dignitaries of Panovia that brought back that age old terror. With minutes to go before she was due on stage, Madge was leaning over a sink in a powder-room, angling her body to keep her gorgeous red dress for out of the splash zone.

She dry-heaved a few times, but managed not to throw up. She did a few breathing exercises to calm her nerves and checked her appearance one final time. "Woman up," she told her reflection, before straightening up and leaving the sanctuary of the cloakroom. She intended to march confidently to the green room, but instead she barreled into a solid block of somebody else and almost hit the floor before a pair of hands caught her.

Madge glanced upwards and her apology died away on her lips. She was staring into a pair of piercing grey eyes. Slowly she took in his features; his heavy brow, his clean shaved cheeks and the square cut of his jaw, his plump and chapped lips, the perfectly combed black hair. Even in her four inch stilettos he towered over her. She noted the way his Adam's apple bobbed, the white tie at his neck, his broad shoulders, the lilac sash draped across his chest. She became aware of his hands, still holding her arms. His grip was strong, his skin warm.

Her eyes traveled up to meet his again and saw he had been examining her too. He dropped his hands suddenly.

"Miss Undersee."

Madge frowned, how did he know her name? Then her name came again, from behind her. She swung around to see an usher waiting impatiently. "Oh, yes." She hurried towards him, then stopped, realizing she had broken about fourteen different rules of protocol, but when she turned back, the secret prince was gone.

The usher led her to where the other performers were waiting anxiously and without a moment's pause they were led out to their chairs at the side of the stage. Her seat gave her a great vantage of the room. Though she tried not to pay attention to the size of crowd, she spotted her father, two rows from the front sitting beside his brother-in-law Coriolanus Snow. She nodded discretely to them.

Madge could see the cameras and the reporters pushing for the best position in the balcony. The foreign journalists easily outnumbered the small contingent from Panovia. It was probably the first time Queen Consilla's birthday celebrations had ever been attended by a foreign journalist. Madge eyed the television cameras and wondered how many people were watching tonight. Earlier, she'd been watching the news and they'd said that millions were expected to tune in around the world. Her stomach rolled and she pushed that thought out of her mind immediately.

The crowd fidgeted impatiently, eyes focused on the doors. Delays were unheard of at the Garden Palace. Then finally doors were thrown open and the crowd rose to their feet. The journalists elbowed each other excitedly. A few minor royals made their way first, then Crown Princess Elena on the arm of her husband, and then last of all Queen Consilla being escorted by her grandson, Prince Gale.

The audience craned their necks and stood on the tips of their toes, in the balcony the journalists were flashing their cameras. Everybody had risen for the queen ostensibly, but all eyes were on her escort – the secret prince. For most of the crowd it was the first time they had seen him in the flesh.

There had been paparazzi pictures of course, photographs lifted from friend's social media sites, and old school yearbooks. None of them had done justice to him. None captured how tall he really was, how piercing his eyes were, how handsome he was. Certainly no photograph had shown how striking he looked dressed in his formal suit.

The royal family took their seats and the first performer, a ten year old violinist, took to the stage. She played with a breathtaking maturity but Madge almost felt sorry for her, because not one person in the room was listening to her, except maybe the prince himself who watched the young musician with laser focus attention. Everybody else was watching him.

For the first eighteen years of his life, Gale Hawthorne had been the eldest son of a widowed cleaner. He had lived in a small town in America, and outside his family and friends, nobody knew who he was. Then the Queen of a small country far way in Europe had made an extraordinary announcement. Her son, the late Prince Leopold, had fathered a child while studying in an American university. The queen intended to legitimize her grandson and award him his full title. The palace hadn't released any information about him at the time; but of course, the story of the 'Secret Prince' had become a sensation and eventually he was tracked down by the press, despite many pleas by the Panovians to respect his privacy. Gale had attended college in America, but now aged twenty four and a college graduate; he had come to Panovia to spend time getting to know his grandmother and to take on a more official role. Tonight was his first official appearance, and the eyes of the world were on him.

The young violinist finished her piece. The audience snapped to attention and applauded her, far too moderate for how well she performed.

The queen took to the stage and after welcoming everybody, began handing out the medals and honors to the various recipients. The Panovian journalists watched dutifully, the foreign journalists looked bored.

Madge studied the prince. His expression was stern, and he was watching the proceedings with great interest. He facial expression was calm, but he was sitting rigidly in his chair, his left knee jiggling nervously, and his fists curling and clenching. He never took his eyes from the stage to look around the room. Madge wondered how well he is able to follow what was happening. Reportedly, he has been learning Panish. Every so often, Princess Elena whispered something to him, but Madge didn't think she was interpreting.

After the young mezzo soprano sang, the queen resumed her position on the stage. There was a buzz of excitement in the room. All the journalists leaned forward. It was time for the highest honors of the night.

First there was a cousin of the queen, an elderly duke who' seemed to struggling under the weight of all his medals and pins. Then it was time for Prince Gale. He rose to his feet and knelt before his grandmother. Cameras clicked furiously as the queen pinned the Order of the Amaryllis medal on his sash. He recited the oath in a deep, clear voice. His Panish was impeccable. The queen said something to him in a low voice and he nodded solemnly.

The news had replayed the clip from his father's medal ceremony earlier that day. Prince Leopold had sniggered and laughed his way through it. The TV presenters had wondered how the young American would behave, but he had shown the ceremony the respect and gravity it deserves.

Prince Gale returned to his seat, and Madge could see the relief on his face and in his posture. Princess Elena and her husband leaned over to congratulate him. Then Princess Elena whispered something in his ear. Whatever she said, it made him laugh. The effect was breathtaking. He was handsome before, but his smile made him beautiful. Madge sucked in a breath, and from the balcony came a furious wave of cameras clicking. The prince's smile faded.

There was a moment of silence, and then the girl beside Madge nudged her. She was so busy watching the prince that she had missed her name being announced. She took her seat at the piano, and played her piece. Only when the last note was fading, did she remember her stage fright. She stood up, her legs shaking, and curtseyed to the queen. As she straightened up, her gaze flitted to the prince. He was clapping, his gaze intent upon her. She stumbled a little, but caught herself.

The ceremony concluded shortly afterwards, and the performers lined up to meet the queen. Princess Elena and her husband left, but Prince Gale accompanied his grandmother.

The queen reached her first and smiled warmly. "Miss Undersee, it's always a pleasure to listen to you play. I am sorry you do not intend to play professionally, but I do hope you will continue to play."

"Of course, Ma'am."

"I remember when you were only the size of our little violinist," the queen said with a fond smile. "It's been an honor to see you blossom into the beautiful young woman you are today." Madge blushed. "Thank you, Ma'am."

Queen Consilla moved on to the next person, and Madge waited for Prince Gale to approach. He had spoken to the young violinist for some time, crouching down to her level and making her giggle. She felt her stomach clench with nerves as he came closer to her.

"Miss Undersee," he said with a nod as he came to stand in front of her. He kept his eyes on her face, his gaze intense. He appeared uncomfortable.

Madge curtseyed. "Your highness."

"I really enjoyed your piece. It was really beautiful."

"Thank you. Hendra is one of my favorite composers, it's always an honor to perform her music."

"I really enjoyed it," he said again. Then he visibly winced. "Well, thank you." He turned abruptly and moved to join his grandmother.

Madge exhaled slowly.

The musicians were led to another room to have their portraits taken. By the time Madge was finished, most of the guests had departed. She found her father and uncle speaking in low voices in a corner.

"Madge, darling, you were wonderful," her father beamed. He threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Well done. Doesn't she look beautiful, Cor?"

Her uncle didn't even react to his loathed nickname. He ran his gaze up and down her body. The way he looked at her wasn't sleazy, but it made Madge feel uncomfortable in a way she couldn't put her finger on. "Yes, very beautiful," he drawled at length. "Bring her with you," he commanded, before turning on his heal and walking off.

Madge's father frowned.

"Bring me where?" Madge asked. Her father shook his head and led her outside to the car.

On the drive, she checked Twitter. She had a couple of hundred new followers and several dozen notifications from friends who had watched her online, they were all congratulating her and asking about the prince. Most of the people she followed were gushing about how handsome he looked and several of them had shared pictures and GIFs of that moment when he had laughed. She checked the trending topics, and 'Prince Gale's smile' was the top worldwide trend.

Madge watched the GIFs play, feeling butterflies in her stomach as Gale smiled over and over.

The car came to a stop in front of her Uncle's mansion. "Why are we here?" Madge asked.

"Coriolanus has something he wants to discuss in private," her father said.

They were admitted to the house and brought to the library where her uncle and a handful of other men were waiting. Madge recognized several of them; they were all high-ranking government officials.

So why the hell had her father been told to bring her? She glanced at him and could see that he looked unhappy.

When everyone was assembled and had been served a drink, Snow gestured to the Minister for Internal affairs to speak. "I was informed today that Princess Elena's cancer has returned. She will receive treatment, but I am told that she's not expected to recover, and that the treatment is to prolong her life rather than to cure her cancer. We don't know how long she has yet, but doctors estimate at most, three years."

Madge's eyes filled with tears. She greatly admired Princess Elena and felt desperately sorry for Queen Consilla who now faced the terrible ordeal of burying a child for the second time.

When Madge looked at the others in the room, she saw that she was the only one who was upset. The men looked angry.

"I knew that bitch was up to something when she legitimized that mongrel," her uncle spat.

Madge shifted uncomfortably. "Coriolanus," her father said sharply. "That's inappropriate."

Snow glared at him. "Bastard, then?" he drawled. "American?" He said the prince's nationality with the same venom he had said mongrel. "She plans to put her bastard, American grandson on the throne. The very thought of it, a vulgar American sitting on the throne of Panovia?" He swiveled around to the minister again. "Tell them, tell them what you told me."

"The boy had never even heard of Panovia before he met his grandmother. When he was told that the queen wished to legitimize him, his exact words were 'fuck off'. He only accepted his title to get his hands on his inheritance."

"Money," Snow slammed his glass down on the table. "Money, that's all he's interested in. He doesn't care about Panovia. What does he know of our history, our culture, our language, our struggles? I, for one, am not going to stand idly by and watch an American be crowned our next king. I love Panovia too much to see it be sullied in such a manner."

The other men in the room agreed loudly.

Madge's father nodded in agreement, but he waited until the others had quietened down before speaking. "I have no desire to have an American king either, but he is Consilla's grandson and has the strongest claim. Who else is there if not him?"

Snow raised an eyebrow. "A true Panovian, I should think."

Madge understood at once what he intended. When Elena had first been diagnosed with cancer, several newspapers had run pieces to determine who would be next in line if Elena decided to step aside for health reasons. Panovia did not have a strict line of succession, with heirs being chosen by the reigning monarch and parliament. There were a few cousins who all had equal claims in the event of Elena dying childless, but they were all older than the queen. One of them was the elderly duke who had been at the awards ceremony tonight. Madge could not see him outlasting the queen. Coriolanus Snow had been given an outside chance at the time. But with the probability that the other contenders would be too old by the time Consilla passed, Snow's chances looked better. He was a high ranking politician with favorable ratings and a great many connections in parliament.

Snow had his eye on the throne and now all that stood between him and it was Prince Gale. Madge had no great wish for an American king, but she did not believe Snow was the best choice.

"Elena has a few years left," Snow said. "Either she steps aside before she dies, or the queen waits until she's gone, but at some stage Consilla will need to name her new heir and parliament will have to approve her choice. We must ensure that the American is not it."

"And how do you propose we do that?" Henri Undersee asked. "Have you seen the coverage he's been getting? People love him, he's the most obvious choice and he has the strongest claim."

Snow waved his hand dismissively. "People don't love him, they think he has a nice smile. We simply need to show the country that he is not worthy of the throne, that he is nothing more than a charlatan taking advantage of his grieving grandmother." He took a sip of his drink and his eyes landed on Madge who was sitting quietly in the corner, biting her tongue an trying to remain unnoticed. "And that's where you come in, my dear niece."

Madge startled. "Me? What?"

"We need somebody to get close to him, to be able to report back to us."

"I can't... how would I even get close to him."

"They need a cultural studies teacher for him," the minister spoke up. "He's studied Panovian history and politics, the palace wants him to learn more about Panovian culture – literature, art, music, what have you. It's up to my department to appoint someone."

"Perfect," Snow said, his face morphing into a smug grin.

Madge looked to her father for guidance. He frowned, considering his brother-in-law for a long moment. Then he nodded once.

Madge sighed. "OK."


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the lovely reviews. It's always means so much when people comment on my fics, thank you for taking the time to do so. The gadge community is really small, so please support and encourage gadge writers.

This chapter is a bit of a non-event, but I wanted to introduce Gale and show what's happening with him. The good stuff starts soon.

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Gale had flat out refused to have a valet help him get dressed in the mornings. No way. But he had conceded to allowing the man suggest his daily outfits, because Gale had no clue what a prince was supposed to wear. So, every morning when he walked into his dressing room, there would be an outfit laid out for him. Clothes he had never seen before. Gale didn't even know where his own clothes were. The only items in the whole room that he recognized were his hiking boots. Everything else had been ordered for him by… his valet, he guessed.

He sometimes wondered what happened to the clothes he had brought with him. Had they been tossed in a furnace, donated to the poor. Would they be returned to him when it was revealed this whole thing was one long prank and he was sent on his merry way back to real life?

This morning's outfit was grey trousers, a shirt and no tie. It indicated the cultural studies class was an informal thing, which was a relief. Part of the deal he had made with his grandmother was that for the past few years he had taken intensive classes in Panovian history, law and politics as well as learning to speak Panish. On top of attending college, it had been a heavy load. So a couple of casual classes about art and music would be a breeze.

His breakfast was sitting on a tray in his sitting room, the traditional Panish rolls and hot chocolate. One of the things he would miss when this charade was over was having his breakfast served to him every morning. There was a selection of newspapers by his tray. The palace had released the formal portraits of him and his grandmother taken the night of her birthday ceremony. His picture dominated the front of the Panovian papers, as well as a few of the American ones. He turned them over so he wouldn't have to see them.

As he was finishing up, there was a knock on the door, and his private secretary Captain Boggs was admitted.

"Good morning, Sir," Boggs said with a bow.

Gale didn't think he would ever feel comfortable with the idea of people like Boggs bowing to him and calling him Sir. Boggs was twice his age, and an experienced and a decorated officer in the Panovian army. Gale had thought it an insult to Boggs for him to be appointed his private secretary, but he had been assured that Boggs would consider it an honor. Boggs certainly never appeared to have taken an affront to his new position. Still, Gale cringed internally every time the man bowed to him.

"Miss Undersee is waiting downstairs for you, whenever you're ready."

"Miss Undersee?"

"Madge Undersee, your new cultural studies teacher, Sir."

"The pianist at the concert last week was an Undersee, are they related?" He asked.

"It's the same person. I believe Miss Undersee uses her full name when she performs but generally goes by Madge."

"Oh, right." Shit. He had felt like a fraud that whole night, but never more than when he had stood in front of the beautiful pianist trying to think of something to say. She was elegant, sophisticated, poised. It was so clear to him that she belong in that world, and he didn't. Now she would be teaching him 'cultural studies'. Whatever the fuck that was.

He had thought that he was finished with Panovian studies. Ever since learning of his father's identity, Gale had been drilled in all things Panovian; its history, laws, politics, geography and its language. His grandmother had pointed out that it wasn't right for a prince of the country to be so ignorant about it. And now cultural studies. Not for the first time, Gale wished he had stuck to his guns that first time he met her when he had told her to fuck off.

Boggs accompanied Gale to his office in the south wing and then admitted Madge Undersee.

"It's nice to see you again, Miss Undersee," he said

"You too, Sir." She curtseyed to him and smiled. "Please call me Madge."

He wished he could tell her to call him Gale, but that was against protocol. "Please, sit."

She sat in a chair, legs crossed at the ankles, hands folded in her lap and stared at him. She was dressed demurely today, her dress had a high neckline hiding the spectacular cleavage she had on show at the concert, her hair was in a simple chignon, and her make-up was light. Everything about her, from her delicate gold earrings to her red-soled shoes screamed wealth and privilege.

Gale Hawthorne had always hated rich people. Prince Gale was one of them.

After a few moment of silence between them, he remembered that she couldn't speak until he started the conversation. "Right, so cultural studies. What is that?"

Madge laughed. "I confess, I'm not entirely sure. I'm not a teacher and I've never really done anything like this before."

Gale couldn't help but laugh a little too. He understood that feeling. "Boggs, can you enlighten us?"

"I believe the hope is that Miss Undersee will introduce you to Panovian culture, our literature, music, dancing, art. Folk and classical as well as our modern culture."

Madge chuckled at the mention of modern culture, but she nodded at Boggs. "Anything particular I should focus on?"

"Yes, in fact there is. The prince has two events on his calendar at present, both culture related. He will be giving out the prizes at the Childrens Festival of Music next month, and then of course, he will be attending the Summer Ball."

Gale had readily agreed to attending the Festival of Music, but this was the first he had heard about any ball. "Summer Ball?" He didn't like the sound of it. "As in, ballroom dancing?"

Madge and Boggs both nodded.

Shit.

"Have you any ballroom dancing experience?" Madge asked. She beamed when he said no. "Great, we can start there." She looked around the room, then to Boggs. "Is there somewhere we can practice?"

"The Begonia Room is free," Boggs said at once.

They both stood, waiting for Gale expectantly and he had no choice but to follow them. He would have preferred almost anything else over ballroom dancing lessons, but just like everything else since the day he had become Prince Gale he had no choice but to go along with it.

Boggs showed them to one of the smaller reception rooms in the palace; a room that was still twice the size of the house he had grown up in.

"Oh, this room is beautiful," Madge gasped.

Like many of the rooms in the palace it had a flower theme, this was reflected in the parquet floor, wood carvings on the walls and the plasterwork in the ceiling above. Gale had seen it briefly when he had been shown around the palace by Elena's husband, Roman, when he had first arrived in Panovia. On the second viewing, he was really able to appreciate how beautiful it was.

"What's it used for?"

Gale thought about what Roman had told him. "It's not really used in an official capacity anymore; it's at the wrong end of the palace – they bring tour groups in here because they can't let them into the other rooms."

"Well, it's perfect for us," Madge declared. She put her handbag down on a chair and faced him. "Alright, so you have no dance training, even from school?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "No, we don't learn ballroom dancing in school back home." Panovians were always so shocked to learn how little arts and culture were taught to American children because it was an important component of Panovian education.

She wrinkled her nose. "It's not just ballroom dancing." She cocked her head to the side. "Do you know what a Laendler is?"

"No." He didn't like the sound of it either.

"Have you ever seen The Sound of Music?" She asked. He nodded. "Do you know the scene at the party where Maria and Captain Von Trap dance together?"

It had been a long time since he had watched that film, and even then it had been under protest. He had a very vague recollection of a dance scene. "Kind of."

"Well, there's a Panovian version of the Laendler which is always danced at the Summer Ball. It's a big deal so you'll be expected to dance it."

"Oh, great." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

Madge giggled. "You sound like me when I have to go to the dentist. Don't worry, it's a fun dance. We'll work on the basics of waltzing today though."

For the next two hours, Madge drilled him. His posture first; How to hold his head, keep his shoulders down, back straight, arms up, elbows this way, thumb that way. Then he had to learn to walk, up and down the room, maintaining the hold position as Madge walked behind him, gently touching his elbow or shoulder or hip when he got it wrong. There was no music, no steps and he had no partner.

"Are you sure this is how to teach dance?" He asked.

"Yes, first you learn to walk, and then dance. And, one, two, three."

By the time they had finished the session, his muscles were aching and his shirt was damp with sweat. "I never knew dancing was so hard," he admitted, wiping his face with the towel a footman had thoughtfully brought along when he had carried in the lemonade and shortbread when Madge finally suggested they take a break.

Gale felt as though his face was on fire, while Madge looked as unruffled and perfect as she had when she arrived.

he tucked into the lemonade and shortbread with zeal. Very high on the list of things Gale liked about the country was Panovian shortbread.

"You don't have shortbread in America?" Madge asked when he told her that.

"Not like this. Three things Panovia is vastly superior to America in- beer, chocolate and shortbread."

"And bread," Madge added.

"Yes, ok, that too."

"Our cheese is better too."

"Fine, five things," Gale said with an exaggerated eye roll and Madge laughed.

She nibbled delicately on her shortbread for a while before asking. "Do you like it here?"

"It's growing on me. Everything has been so hectic since I got here that I haven't really seen much of it yet. I'm looking forward to meeting more people and seeing more of the country. I can't wait to go to the mountains, they look spectacular."

"They're beautiful," Madge agreed. "Do you ski or are you a boarder?"

"Neither. I've never done either of them." Not much chance for indulging in expensive winter sports when you're living on the breadline.

Madge seemed shocked, but she quickly covered it. "I'm a decent skier, if you need a tutor," she teased.

Gale snorted. "If I'm still able to move after all this dancing is over, I'll give you a call."

They fell into silence for a while as they sipped their drinks and Gale got his breath back. Madge reached into her bag and pulled out her leather organizer to make a schedule for their classes. "I'll make a play list of the music you're likely to hear at the Festival. They must play either Panovian folk or classical. Some of the classical pieces will be played at the ball as well."

Gale read the schedule over her shoulder. It was all dance lessons and classical music. Ugh. He took a bite of shortbread and swallowed it all before speaking. "What about the modern stuff? When do I get to hear something from this century?"

Madge's answering snort was surprisingly unladylike. She blushed. "There's no modern music scene in Panovia. There's been maybe ten Panovian acts in the charts since I was born. I can make you a play list of our modern music, but it's mostly Eurovision entries. And our best place in that was sixth which should tell you everything you need to know about Panovian pop music."

"That tells me nothing. What's Eurovision?"

Madge giggled. "Oh, I have so much to teach you. You're not just a Panovian now, you're a European too. I'll put aside a whole day for that."

He knew she was making a joke, even though he didn't understand what it was, but her cheeks dimpled adorably and he couldn't help but laugh too.

"I can-"

Madge was cut off then by a knock on the door and his grandmother was admitted. They rose to greet her; Madge curtseying and Gale kissing her cheek.

"How are the dance lessons coming along?" She asked them.

"Very well, Gale is an excellent student."

"Really?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes, really," Madge insisted gently. She turned back to the queen. "His hands need a lot of work but he has great posture and is remarkably light footed, especially for someone of his size. He's a good student."

Consilla smiled proudly. "Thank you for undertaking this task, Madge. I'm very pleased it's you, I think you'll do a wonderful job."

Madge blushed and ducked her head. "Thank you."

Madge left short afterwards, promising to see him in two days time for their next session.

Gale walked his grandmother back to their residence. "I'm very fond of Madge. She's a very sweet girl, and very talented" Consilla told him.

"She's a pretty tough teacher. My arms are about to fall off."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah," I guess I did." He hadn't expected to, but the dance lesson had been kind of fun and he was even looking forward to the next one.


End file.
